


before we met, i thought i saw you in a dream

by heroic



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/M, The Death Cure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 00:58:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroic/pseuds/heroic
Summary: This is the end.(and again and again and again—)This is the end.(MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE DEATH CURE MOVIE)





	before we met, i thought i saw you in a dream

**Author's Note:**

> this fic contains major spoilers & some descriptions some might consider gruesome, so please be careful.

She's too close and he's too fast. One second Teresa is leaning in, _closer,_ trying to hear the whispered words of a broken boy (and she is sorry, she is sorry, she is sorry but he needs to _understand_ —) and the next she is slammed into the table. It was her own fault, her own stupid mistake for wanting anything other than hatred, than selfishness, than Minho's voice screaming "you traitor!"

Minho pins her down with his nails digging into her skin, hands around her throat. She thinks he's considering his options, blunt force trauma or strangulation, how much time does he have, and she watches the veins in his neck strain against his skin. _I am sorry_ rests on her tongue, right between her teeth, but the words do not come out. There are some things good intentions and heartfelt words will never fix. Minho stares right at her, into her eyes, like maybe he sees something she doesn't, and then the guards start making noise. He flinches back to look at them, and her fingers curl around his wrists.

 _Minho_ , she wants to say, desperately, but doesn't get the chance to. Blunt force trauma or strangulation? Both take too long.

Minho dives in, scraps his teeth against her skin until he digs his way through and then yanks himself back. Teresa sees him: bloodied mouth, dripping chin, no bravado or triumph on his face, just a boy. Just a boy. The wound spurts blood onto the table and she bleeds out fast on the floor, hand pressed against her neck as if it will do anything.

* * *

 

She sees Thomas and it is not the first time. For the last six months every perfect stranger has been Thomas, perfect and yet terrible Thomas, the only person she wants to see. None of them have been him, and she has stopped crying over the missed chances. She doesn't know what she would say, anyway.

But then he is there, he is there and she can see him, the birthmark on his cheek and his nose and then like a flicker, like a mirage and a nightmare twisted into one: suddenly he is gone.

Teresa rushes to the space where a boy once stood, but the trains are on automated cycles. It hits her before she even realizes what is happening.

She never finds out if it was him.

* * *

 

Gally goes first, ready to get the chip out of his neck.

"It will sting," she tells him, scalpel in hand, poised in the air. For a man who just threatened to cut her thumb off, he waves her off quickly, like she's wasting his time.

"Just make it quick," he says, gruff, and she nods. She will.

She slices the carotid artery daintily; one clean press that leaves a splutter of blood in its wake. Gally's fingers immediately rush up to the wound and she lets him, starts to move him to the floor as he gasps and gurgles for air. His eyes stare up at her wide, wild, in awe of her betrayal. He looks at her like he's seen a monster and she thinks _maybe you aren't wrong, but that's not what matters._

A shot rings out into the air and then it is immediately in her stomach, a pain so hot it burns and blood already immediately soaking her shirt. When she looks up, all of them look confused and upset and mad, but only Frypan has a gun in his hand. He looks directly at her, eyes burning, almost like he is ready to shoot again.

Everything kicks back to life: Thomas and Newt rush to Gally's side, start applying pressure on the wound, and Teresa doesn't bother to do it for herself. Instead, she leans back against the cool floor that's now slick with blood and closes her eyes, tries to breathe slowly, up and down. It hurts more than anything she has ever experienced but it's okay, it will be okay, it is all okay. She will die but the research will live so somewhere out there a child will live and that's enough for her. It is enough.

On the brink of the end, she thinks she hears his voice: "Teresa? Teresa! Answer me!" Thomas sounds desperate and afraid and full of concern. She cannot tell if it is real or if it's her mind trying to comfort her in her final moments, but she takes it for what it's worth anyway. She sinks away to the sound of his voice, lets his call carry her home.

* * *

 

Thomas has a tight grip and good reaction time. There is nothing else.

One second Teresa is trying to pull the emergency alarm, and the next: darkness.

There is nothing else.

* * *

 

After she knocks Janson out, the only thing Teresa wants to do is get Thomas out. It is so much of a priority that she does not notice that Janson gets back up, not until he throws her over the table. Somewhere, Thomas is thrashing against his restraints, and Janson makes quick steps to get to her and the cure. She uses her free hand and grabs a shrapnel of glass and holds it out threateningly.

Janson looks like he's ready to laugh. "Just give it to me," he says.

She tosses the vial across the room ( _get it, Thomas_ ) and lunges. She holds the piece of glass so tight it splits her entire hand open and leaks blood all over the edges. All of her nerves feel alight, like she burning from the inside out; when she cuts his neck, it is messy and bloody and she is not sure which is which, whose blood is whose. She drags the jagged edge as far as she can before she lets go, her palm a gaping, aching wound.

She looks down to watch him die and Janson smiles up at her with blood on his teeth. The piece of glass slides in between her ribs and she feels the impact, the wound, and all she can think is: _oh_. He's too smart to leave it in so he pulls it out and then tosses it, and they both watch as the blood starts to stain her shirt.

In the distance Thomas is saying something. Janson cannot speak but he looks at her like he is saying something, like _looks like we both have blood on our hands_. Teresa is not saying anything. She heaves herself away from him with all of her remaining strength until she feels Thomas' hands against her arms, strong and sure.

There are so many things she could tell him, but instead she lets him hold her, lets herself be held. He's saying something, he's saying things, but all of it is simply noise and so all she can do is breathe, "Thomas." He wipes his hands against her cheeks and she tries to smile against the inside of the palm of his hand, until the bitter end.

* * *

 

Janson gets a lucky shot; the bullet ricochets until it is in her stomach. She directs Thomas to the gauze and presses it against her stomach but when she leans her head against the cabinet, she knows what must happen with certainty. "You have to go on without me," she says.

"No," Thomas says, beautiful and stubborn Thomas. "I'm not leaving. Not without you."

She shudders for a breath and presses harder against the wound. Thomas manages to release the Cranks so they attack Janson and pulls her up and away, lets her lean on him for support. They walk out onto the roof and stare at the fires of all around them, the destruction of it all.

Thomas collapses and pulls her into his lap; he holds her gently, carefully, places his forehead against hers.

"I'm sorry," she croaks, tears blurring her vision. "I tried." Somehow, the words ache more than the wound in her stomach, more than anything else.

Thomas presses against her like he will never be able to get close enough. "I know," he says, and it is utterly heartbreaking. He presses his lips against hers and she responds desperately. _I love you I love you I love you, Tom_ , she thinks, tries to say through the kiss, messy and miserable. _I love you._

The others don't get there in time; blood loss is a hell of a thing. Thomas holds her the entire time, strokes her hair, whispers to her, and she nestles herself against him, tries to stay alive. It is not working.

"Teresa?" Thomas says, his voice impossibly small, and Teresa lets herself drift away in his arms.

* * *

 

They get there in time and somehow manage to grab Thomas and heave him to safety, bloody wound in his stomach and all. The neighboring building collapses and they start to pull away from the ruination, even with their outstretched hands waiting for her.

Teresa still makes the jump anyway. It's too far, and no one grabs her.

It isn't the fall that kills her, just the onslaught of the pavement. 

* * *

 

This is a dream where everyone is happy and nothing is wrong and look, a beach and waves, isn't it nice. Thomas panics and flails until he sees her standing a little ways from him, watching him flounder. He chokes on a bunch of unsaid words before he gets out, "Teresa."

They are in some type of shack and he is on a makeshift bed and Teresa is standing in the corner, looking picturesque and perfect, almost like she belongs there. He reaches out for her and she walks to meet him, grabs his hands and moves to lay down on the bed beside him.

He starts to cry. "I wish... I wish..." he keeps starting, and then blubbering, and Teresa brushes away the hair that's fallen over his forehead.

Her voice is soft and warm. "Me too, Tom," she says, stroking his cheeks. "Me too."

He squeezes her hand tight just to make sure this is real. "I wish I stayed with you," he says seriously, staring into her eyes. "I wish we went down together in the rubble." Somehow he means this with everything in him, that he wishes he didn't leave her behind. He can imagine it: them holding hands, collapsing into the fire and concrete and darkness.

Teresa smiles at him, heartbreaking and sad and beautiful. "I don't," she says, and then breathes a laugh against his cheeks. He wants to live in this moment forever. "I'm glad you made it, Tom. You made it."

He wakes up alone to the sound of crashing waves. This is the end.

**Author's Note:**

> i am so sad about teresa and thomesa


End file.
